


Same Old Love

by princessoftheworlds



Series: It's not a crime to love what you cannot explain [22]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Police, F/M, Gun Violence, Romantic Comedy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Chief of Police Caroline Forbes is having a hell week. Her life just has to choose now to unravel until Caroline can no longer balance her private and work lives or keep them apart.





	Same Old Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angelikah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelikah/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Angie!

“Chief Forbes,” Caroline’s assistant Matt says to Caroline, poking his head inside her office at the beginning of one of those late nights where she stays back filling out dreaded paperwork, “we’ve got another case. It’s a forgery ring this time.”

Without looking up from the warrant request form she’s filling out, she tells him, “Drop it on my desk.”

Matt drifts in quickly, placing the file neatly on one corner of her desk, and exits immediately, not wanting to remain in her office any more than necessary.

Everyone of her officers and staff knows how she gets on nights like _this_. They still tell horror stories on the time Valerie the Medical Examiner tried to place a file on Caroline’s desk when Caroline was newly-appointed as Chief of Police.

After she sets her pen down, she reaches for the case file that Matt had placed onto her desk. She pulls it closer to her before flipping it open.

Caroline groans, loudly, when her eyes land on the first page of the stapled packet in the file folder.

She pushes the file away before changing her mind abruptly and pulling it back, hoping against all hopes that the contents of the file will be different when she reopens it.

It’s not.

Shoving her chair back, Caroline teeters to her feet, stretching out her aching muscles, and makes her way to the mini-fridge in the back of her office, bare feet silent again the carpeted floor.

She returns to her desk, bottle of red wine in hand.

She won’t be making it through this file sober.

 

* * *

 

“C’mon, Care!” Bonnie insists, beer nearly sloshing out of the glass in her hand as she gestures. “Just give this guy a chance! He’s Enzo-approved.”

Judging by the increasing volume of Bonnie’s words, she knows her friend is nearly drunk.

“That’s what you said about Damon,” Caroline reminds her dryly. “Then, he tried to cop a feel of my ass, and I was arrested by my own officers for starting the bar fight that landed him in the hospital.”

“Hey,” Enzo, her other best friend and Bonnie’s husband, pitches in from the other side of the restaurant booth. “I hadn’t talked to him in over six years. He was back in town for a brief while and just wanted a date. How was I supposed to remember how much of an asshole he was.”

“Besides,” Caroline continues, overpowering Enzo’s multiple protests. “I’m already in a relationship.”

“Yeah,” Bonnie says. “Six months, and we still haven’t seen the guy. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

“He’s an artist!” Caroline states, blushing heavily. “He’s gotta travel for his art shows.”

“C’mon, blondie,” Enzo says. “You move back in town after two years to be Chief of Police and that too with a new beau. It’s a bit odd.”

“It’s weird enough that mob crime picked back up the moment you moved back. Almost like you had something to do with that,” Bonnie notes.

Caroline freezes and nearly panics. “Does anyone want to order a burger? I’ll flag down a waiter.” Her voice rises another octave as she breaks into nervous laughter, but thankfully, Enzo and Bonnie are too tipsy to notice.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, the bed creaks and dips as Klaus slides in under the sheets besides Caroline.

Having sobered a while back, Caroline flips onto her side and turns to face him. “Bonnie and Enzo were asking about you,” she tells him quietly.

“Oh,” he says with just the slightest hit of curiosity in his tone. “Were they?” He nestles closer to her, the mattress springs squeaking under his movements.

She prods him on the shoulder with a finger. “No, seriously,” she continues. “They thought it was odd that they hadn’t met you yet. What am I supposed to tell them?”

“More art shows?” he suggests, and by the mischief in his voice, Caroline knows that he’s smirking at her in the dark of their bedroom.

She pouts. “It’s a shitty excuse that’ll only hold up for some more time. Please,” she reaches out a hand blindly, dragging it over the rough contours of his unshaven jawline, “they’re important to me. Just like you’re important to me.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he reassures her.

“Fine,” she says, but they both know that she’s stubborn enough that they’ll be revisiting this topic soon. “Now, where were you this morning? I made pancakes that I ended up eating alone.” There’s a bit of a childish whine to her voice.

“I was in my art studio,” he tells her, “painting like the artist your friends believe I am. Besides, love, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Right now,” she insists, and by the rustling of the blankets, she knows that he’s moving to comply.

He rolls on top of her, pinning her legs down with the heft of his body.

“You’re too heavy,” she complains, but he only chuckles, the sound reverberating nicely against her skin.

He continues to move down her body, head ducked under the blanket, brushing his nose against her bare skin at a punishing pace. She sighs continuously at the sensation but eventually grows quieter and quieter.

At one point, when Caroline stops responding, he pinches her, but she makes no sound.

“Caroline?” he whispers.

The only response is a drawn-out snore.

Klaus snorts in laughter, poking his head out from underneath the blanket to realize that Caroline’s fallen asleep on him.

It happens occasionally that one of them falls asleep when the other tries to initiate sex since they both have such busy jobs and work late so frequently. Klaus returns to his position on the pillow besides Caroline, tugs her closer to his body, and closes his eyes peacefully.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Chief?” Jeremy asks, peeking into her office. “You wanna ride along? Someone reported a robbery possibly linked to the case you’ve been working on.”

“Sure,” Caroline replies, yawning. “I could use a break from staring at this file all day.”

She could use a nap, really, but she’s at work right now. This damn case has been draining her energy all week. The one time she and Klaus made it to bed on the same night, she fell asleep before he could even try to eat her out!

Caroline will be so glad when she can declare this case closed.

 

* * *

 

“Damnit!” Caroline hisses as she drops down to the ground, ducking behind the giant dumpster. With a thud, the bullet that had been aimed at her embeds itself in the brick wall behind her, just inches above her head. “Fuck,” she mutters as she ejects the empty magazine from her gun. “It was just supposed to be a fucking robbery.” She searches through her pockets, searching for an extra magazine. “Where the fuck are my bullets?”

She hasn’t been in the actual line of fire in months; she’s been stuck in an office ever since she moved back into town after she was made Chief. Though her hands are steady as they grip and guide the gun she always keeps tucked under her blouse, the unexpected and nearly-unfamiliar tension of the situation she has found herself in has her nerves singing with adrenaline.

“You got an extra magazine?” she calls to Jeremy who’s crouched on the other side of the dumpster. “I’m out.”

“I gotcha, Chief.”

Jeremy works Robbery Homicide and is used to firefights, which this venture was not meant to turn into. They had arrived on the scene of the robbery only to see a suspicious figure fleeing the scene. They’d chased them into the alleyway that they themselves are now trapped in.

Caroline and Jeremy are lucky that Jeremy kept a few bulletproof vests in the trunk of his police cruiser.

Jeremy carefully pokes his head out from behind the dumpster, mindful of any bullets flying their way, and slides Caroline a magazine. Just as he retreats behind the dumpster, a bullet hits the edge of the dumpster with a ping.

She reaches for the magazine and skillfully loads it into her gun, cocking it carefully. With measured movements, she springs up and fires a quick shot after their shooter.

Judging by their shout of pain and stumble backwards, she hit them somewhere vital, but they don’t relent their hailstorm of bullets.

Dropping back down, Caroline shouts to Jeremy, raising her voice to be heard above the chaos. “Where’s our backup?”

He gestures helplessly. “I called them,” he shouts back. “They should be here soon.”

At that moment comes the sound of multiple sets of tires loudly squealing to a stop against pavement, music to Caroline’s ears. Backup is here.

Then, she turns around and realizes that several cars pulled to an abrupt stop on the opposite side of the alley than theirs and are, in fact, backup. But for their shooters.

“Fuck,” she hisses. “This just got more complicated.”

“What do we do now, Chief?” Jeremy asks, eyes fixed on her for guidance.

The new arrivals will outnumber them by many bodies and will be able to proceed down the alleyway with ease, and Jeremy and Caroline will run out of bullets eventually. Their only options are shooting back or running, and both are lose-lose situations.

As if the answer to their figurative prayers, Caroline’s officers choose that moment to pull up behind the dumpster in their police cruisers, spilling out decked in their bulletproof vests and with guns.

“How many?” Bonnie asks, sneaking up next to Caroline.

“At least ten, Bennett,” she tells her lieutenant, taking a peek past the dumpster. “Backup arrived for the shooter a few minutes ago. They must be part of the mob that’s running the forgery ring. Apparently, a warehouse they ran a money press in was ransacked by a rival, and that’s how we got in this whole mess.”

Bonnie whistles in surprise and then wordlessly signals for their officers to spread out throughout the alleyway.

There’s commotion on the other end; the mob boss has arrived in another screech of tires, and he’s yelling orders apparently.

Bullets fly mercilessly towards the police squad, who returns with their own fire. It’s quick and chaotic.

Someone motions for Caroline to retreat and be taken back to the station for her safety, but she wrestles their rifle out of their hands and climbs up, perching on the edge of the dumpster and aiming the rifle towards their attackers.

She aims for nonvital areas, attempting only to incapacitate the shooters. She takes about two or three shooters about of the fight by shooting their kneecaps, forcing them to retreat for medical treatment.

Someone steps into the view of her rifle scope.

Mussed sandy curls. Dimples like deep pools. Narrow cheekbones. Stormy eyes. A shadow of scruff across a strong jaw. Raspberry lips pulled in a tight line. A body of sharp lines and subtle muscles wrapped in a navy suit that’s probably Tom Ford.

He’s lifting a gun straight at her, eyebrows furrowed in a familiar expression of concentration.

Then something’s hitting Caroline’s side like a punch with the force of a sledgehammer, the pain radiating across her ribs and left upper body, and it knocks her off-balance until she topples backwards, crashing a few feet to the ground.

She blacks out instantly before her body can properly register the pain.

 

* * *

 

Caroline comes back to consciousness and finds herself leaning against the brick wall, the blurry shape of Bonnie leaning over her and pressing an icepack to her ribs. The bulletproof vest is gone, and there’s a hollow achiness to her side that she instantly despises.

“What happened?” she asks Bonnie in a raspy voice. Her throat feels drier than the Sahara, but all of her body’s attention is focused on the cool contrast of the icepack against the bare skin and side. “Weren’t we in a firefight?”

The image of Bonnie begins to crystallize as Caroline’s vision focuses.

“Yeah,” Bonnie tells her. “You got shot in the side, but your bulletproof vest took most of the impact. I had a medic check you out under my supervision.”

And, indeed, if Caroline looks to the side, there’s a few straggling members of the police squad talking to the ambulance parked a few feet away.

Bonnie continues, “You should be fine. It might bruise nastily. They recommended that you take some pain relievers or something. The reason you passed out was because of the impact of the bullet knocked you to the ground, but there was no permanent damage.”

“Okay,” Caroline says and tries to stand.

She wobbles a bit and then crashes instantly back to the ground.

Bonnie reaches out a hand to steady her. “Woops. Yeah, none of that. Here, let’s get you home. I’ll have an officer drive you.”

Caroline gives in; she knows that there’s no point protesting to Bonnie.

“The dizziness should die down in a few minutes,” Bonnie explains.

“Bon,” Caroline croaks. “What happened to the criminals?”

“We caught and arrested most of them,” Bonnie tells her. “The mob boss got away, but we managed to identify him. Nicholas Michaels. A small-time business owner. We’ll put a few uniforms on finding him. Just go home for now, Care.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Caroline is dropped home, she’s popped an Advil or two and is in much better shape. The pain in her ribs is just a dull throb, and she can think clearly again.

She stumbles into the kitchen, dropping her keys into the small bowl on the counter, and continues into the bedroom.

Turning to the closet, she contemplates taking a shower but decides not to. She’s got a bunch of pent-up aggression and adrenaline and a human-sized problem to deal with.

When she turns back around, Klaus is standing there.

“Good,” Caroline tells him, sternly clipping off the ends of her words. “You’re saving me the trouble off finding you.”

“Evening, love,” he says in response, the edges of his lips turning up in a slight smile. “How was your day at work?”

He’s still wearing _the damn suit_.

She scowls. “You fucking _shot me_! That was my day at work!”

Klaus’s expression becomes simultaneously regretful and apologetic. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he replies, “I didn’t know that was you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Mikaelson,” Caroline rages. “You said you cut down the guns to focus on the forgery. So why did your guys still have guns? And why are you getting in mob wars?”

Now, he scowls. “That was all Kol. Fucker can’t let go of the guns, and he keeps going and provoking the de Martels.”

“Ugh.” She throws her hands up in frustration. “I’m the Chief of Police. You’re a mob boss. Why did I ever think this would be a good idea?”

Chuckling smoothly, he stalks closer, a predator on the hunt, herding her towards the wall. “You married me, love,” he reminds her.

Caroline rolls her eyes but continues walking backwards. “And I regret it every day.”

He moves closer. “Is your injury any severe?” he murmurs, ducking his head to trail his nose over her visible collarbone.

“Just the world’s ugliest bruise,” she grouses.

“So, you aren’t advised to engage in anything too athletic?” His gaze is intense and causes warmth to gather in her stomach and in her heart and wetness to pool in her panties.

“Nope.” She shakes her head.

“Good,” Klaus whispers, snaking his head so near that their lips brush against each other. Then, he swoops down and claims her mouth in a fiery, possessive kiss that causes her knees to tremble and ignites a surge of lust in her body.

They kiss like that for several minutes. She’s pinned against the wall, his body pressing down on hers, but it feels supportive rather than restrictive.

Her husband sneaks a hand under her blouse to trace gently over the bruise, but she hisses nonetheless at the contact.

Immediately, he steps back, glancing down at her in concern.

“I’m fine,” she tells him, waving him off.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Klaus shoots back, carefully unbuttoning her blouse and helping her slip it off. He then scoops her up into his arms as she makes a surprised squeak, dropping her gently on the bed and sliding her slacks and underwear off. In quick movements, he also manages to unhook her bra and drops it to the side of the bed, all before she can make another sound. “Now, don’t move more than you have to, sweetheart. I’ll do all the work.”

Klaus trails tender kisses down the slope of her neck. He spends time lavishing the swell of her breasts, his scuff dragging against her skin in a scratchy but appealing way.

She squeaks when he sucks briefly on her sensitive nipples and moans when Klaus draws his fingers down her sides, careful around the bruise. He stops to tickle behind Caroline’s knees and gently grasp her ankles and squeeze them lightly, eliciting a symphony of sounds from his wife.

It’s all over when he gets his mouth on her.

Klaus licks deep into her pussy, flicking his tongue over her clit and inner lips so quickly that she makes a dying whimper at the back of her throat.

But, too quickly, he’s pulling away. To Caroline’s relief, however, he’s only replacing his mouth with his fingers.

He pushes one into her, and she unclenches down on it, but his finger is unyielding inside her, causing her to groan in protest. “Move,” she demands.

As if to infuriate her even more, Klaus lightly draws his thumb over her pussy, teasing her folds slowly as she whines.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he asks cockily.

“I didn’t marry you for your conversational skills, Mikaelson,” Caroline snaps. “It would feel better if-”

He chooses that moment to crook his finger _just so_ , bumping into her sweet spot in a way that silences her train of thoughts and drawing a moan from her.

“I know what you need, right now, sweetheart,” he tells her huskily. “Let me take care of you, Caroline. You don’t always need to be in control.”

Shoving another finger inside her, Klaus doesn’t allow her any time to respond, scissoring her with savage intent. All she can see are bright white explosions every time his fingers bump inside her and her eyes flutter shut.

“You look _so_ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, eyes glinting with lust. “Practically overcome with pleasure. Wordless. But, of course, you’ll sing for me.” He thrusts his fingers up and further into her, and she cries out. “I love the sounds you make, Caroline.”

“ _Klaus_ ,” she gasps out. “I’m _so close_.”

He pulls his fingers out, and she cries out again. She feels _so empty_ , but he’s merciful.

With unrelenting focus and care, he eats her out until she is nearly boneless with pleasure, her body too lax for her to root a hand in Klaus’s curls. All Caroline can do is hang out for the ride, whimpering and moaning in response to her husband’s wicked tongue.

When she climaxes, her body arches up slightly. Her knees tremble terribly. She screams out Klaus’s name before slumping back down against the bedsheets.

Klaus climbs back onto the bed, mouth gleaming with traces of her orgasm. He swipes at his mouth with the bedsheet, cleaning it off, before smirking at her. He leans down to peck her swiftly on the mouth. “Feeling better?” he asks.

She nods weakly. “Definitely. But, I would feel better if I had your cock in me.”

Her husband’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Of course,” he replies. “Who am I to deny my wife?”

Caroline shrugs.

Climbing off the bed, Klaus shucks off his shirt and pants, balling them up and tossing them into an unseen corner of the room.

For once, Klaus doesn’t tease her. They are both subdued. He only lifts her legs to separate them slightly and crawls between them, nudging himself forward until the tip of his cock brushes between her thighs. He positions himself at her entrance and then slowly pushes himself inside.

Caroline whimpers a little, feeling her inner walls stretch slowly to accommodate his solid length inside her.

Not wasting time, Klaus rocks forward gently, and that sets the mood.

It’s less of the quick but gentle fuck that Caroline was hoping for and more of a lovemaking session that she doesn’t mind.

Klaus feels _so good_ inside her, and he keeps bumping against a bundle of sensitive nerves that causes a sudden eruption of pleasure in her body. His cock hits so deep inside her body that her eyes flicker shut as her body arches upwards and she moans loudly.

When she comes for the second time, it’s quieter, her head only tossing to the side on her pillow and her eyes squeezing tighter as her walls flutter around Klaus.

A few moments later, Klaus comes himself, murmuring her name under his breath. He slumps forward, remaining in her but tucking his head between her neck and shoulder.

In a few minutes, she’ll get up to clean them off and change clothes for bed. They’ll have to figure out the mess of their real life and the events of today. But, for now, she’ll rest in this peaceful moment, blocking out the rest of the world and pretending that it’s only Klaus and her in their bedroom.

And, right now, that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) to let me know how much you liked this fic or request a prompt. Comments and kudos would be nice too!


End file.
